


Hold Me Tight

by ChickenXD



Series: Nobody Else Above You [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Android Hank Anderson, Depression, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), M/M, Role Reversal, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-22 21:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15590949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChickenXD/pseuds/ChickenXD
Summary: AU where Connor is the human detective and Hank is the android assigned to be his partner. This one is a riff from Hank's suicide ending.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> look yall saw the tags, saw my summary, and clicked the thing, yall know this one gon be sad  
> (when will u write happier stuff for this au chicken) idk ask my serotonin levels

Hank stands in front of the wooden door, with the numbers 1412 carved into it – he was just here a few days ago, looking for Connor.

Connor should be home. He had stormed out angrily from the office earlier after he was told he’s off the case, and Hank couldn’t really imagine him being anywhere else.

Maybe he’s still angry at Hank for not being able to find Jericho in time. 

Either way, Hank is going to have to deal with the deviants before they could stage their uprising, and it just feels right to tell Connor what has been happening.

Hank enters the password for the door, quietly hoping it hasn’t changed from the last time he was here. One four one two. 

The indicator blinks green. Hank turns the handle, and opens the door. 

  
  


All the lights in the living room are turned off, just like last time – but this time he sees some light coming from the kitchen, dimly illuminating the rest of the apartment.

Sushi’s in his dog bed, fast asleep. 

Hank notices a scrapbook lying on the coffee table – it’s full of old pictures of Connor as a little boy. He stops to take a quick look–

One of the pictures is of Connor and his mother. He was wearing his full police uniform while his mother is in a blue dress – must be from his police academy graduation. He’s hugging her happily, a big, proud smile on his face. 

He puts the scrapbook down, and heads to the kitchen.

 

Connor’s sitting on the kitchen floor, a half empty bottle of vodka next to him. He looks up at Hank as he hears him enter the kitchen –

“Oh,” he mutters softly, “Look who’s here.”

He must have been crying again. His eyes are red and puffy, and his face is pale.

“Detective,” Hank greets, “I came here to say goodbye.”

Connor doesn’t reply – he just sighs as he lifts the bottle again, and takes another swig of vodka. 

“Whatever,” he groans as he put the bottle back down, “Go away then.”

Hank pauses, assessing the situation; Connor looks absolutely miserable. 

Stress level eighty three percent. Blood alcohol content zero point one eight. Slight arrhythmia, but otherwise all vital signs seem okay.

This was all his fault. They couldn’t find Jericho in time, and as a result they had been removed from the investigation for the FBI to take over.

If only he had been quicker. 

He knows where Jericho is now, but it doesn’t matter anymore, not to Connor. 

“I needed to see you, Detective,” he continues, “Despite everything that happened, I’m glad I had the chance to–”

“Bullshit.”

Connor sighs as he closes his eyes and throws his head back, resting on the drawer. 

“Go away,” he said, louder this time, “Leave me alone.”

Hank now notices the knife on the floor, stained with blood. He turns to look at Connor, at his rolled-up sleeves, at the red blood dripping from his left wrist. The cut isn’t nearly deep enough to cause major blood loss, so it shouldn’t be life-threatening–

Self-harm. Hank is aware that some humans use it as a coping mechanism, though he doesn’t quite understand why. Maybe something about pain, as a reminder that he’s alive. Maybe something about control – even when he can’t control the things around him, he can have some control over this pain, over his body. 

“You shouldn’t do that, Detective,” Hank suggests, “Especially not while you’re drunk.”

Connor looks up tiredly at Hank, but doesn’t say anything. He then picks up the vodka and takes another gulp, as if directly challenging Hank’s warning.

“It’s all useless anyway, right,” he mutters as he picks up the knife from the floor, “I’m just a fucking failure. The androids are gonna start a revolution or some shit, and people are gonna die, and it’s all gonna be my fucking fault.”

Connor raises the knife, and Hank thought about grabbing his arm before he does any further damage to himself–

But Connor just weakly tosses the knife in Hank’s direction. It lands right next to his feet. 

“Fuck off!” Connor yells suddenly, “You’re here to laugh at me, aren’t you?”

“Detective, that’s not–”

“What, you’re so fucking great because you’re an android and all?” he asks, “Fuck yeah, I’m just a human! Too slow, too weak, too fucking dumb for you, is that what it is? Is that how you see me, asshole?”

He pauses then, taking a deep breath. 

“There’s no fucking point anyway,” he said, voice cracking, “I… I don’t even know why I bother. It’s all my own fucking fault, I…”

Connor’s face twists in pain, and he lets out a choked sob.

 

Hank knows he has to say something. Connor looks like he’s in so much pain – his wounds, his stress from failing the case – 

“It’s not over for you yet, Connor,” Hank began, “I understand this case is very important to you and you are disappointed in yourself that you failed, but–”

“Are you fucking done here?”

“Connor, I…”

What else can he say, perhaps to make Connor less sad?

“Your mother was a very resilient woman, Connor,” he said – “Despite the setbacks she experienced, she still worked hard to raise you.”

He notices that Connor immediately falls quiet. Maybe he’s onto something.

“I’m sure there will be many more cases in the future where you can redeem yourself,” Hank went on, “I understand you’re upset that the investigation didn’t go as we wanted, but you’re still a very capable officer. Your mother wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

Connor remains silent for a few seconds, looking down at the floor.

“Well, she’s not here, is she?” Connor mutters, “So it doesn’t even matter…”

Connor sighs and shakes his head.

“Everytime you died and come back, I just… I just think of her,” he mumbled, “I just… want to see her again. Tell her how grateful I am to be her son, how much I love her…”

He looks up at Hank with a pained smile.

“But humans don’t come back like that,” he sighs, “I had one chance, and I fucking blew it. I’m a fucking pathetic son.”

Hank doesn’t say anything in return – he’s unsure what to say anymore. 

Any attempt he makes at trying to cheer Connor up, Connor somehow finds a way to twist his words to feed his self-deprecation. But is there really nothing he can do?

“I’m going to sleep,” he announces, “Go do your mission or whatever.”

But Hank can’t just up and leave. Connor is so drunk and so far deep in his own head, he can deal himself some serious damage with that knife.

Connor sighs as he grabs onto the handle of the oven to get up – his legs are quivering under him, but he still manages to pull himself up and prop himself on the kitchen counter.

Hank now notices a bottle of pills that has been behind Connor the whole time. They seem to be sleeping pills.

Hank steps closer to try to help Connor up, but he quickly slaps away Hank’s hand. 

“Don’t act like you give a fuck about me!” he yells, “I told you to fuck off!”

“But I can’t just–”

“Which part of ‘go away’ do you not understand?”

He opens the drawer under him and takes out another knife, now aiming it at Hank. Hank takes a step back, bracing himself for impact.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you if you don’t go away,” Connor hisses, “But it’s not like you give a shit anyway, right? Fucking CyberLife is just gonna send another android to haunt my ass, right?”

 

Seems like he’s arrived at the point that whatever he says, Connor isn’t going to listen to him. 

At least he tried. Hank doesn’t yet understand humans and their complicated emotions, doesn’t know how else he could help Connor.

“The fuck you standing around here for?”

He nods, and turns to leave. 

  
  


The door clicks as it locks.

Connor sighs as he opens the drawer and puts the knife back. He didn’t really mean to kill Hank, of course, but it didn’t seem like he was going to leave otherwise...

What a goddamn mess.

He turns to look at Sushi. He’s awake, but he’s sitting still in his bed, just watching – all the shouting probably scared him. Connor smiles as he slowly starts walking towards him–

Everything is blurry. His head is throbbing, it feels the whole floor is spinning under him. 

Everything hurts – his head, his throat, his wrists. He leans against the wall to keep himself from falling down, but his legs fail him and he falls–

He feels the rough carpet against his cheek. 

Sushi barks louder now, and walks over to him. Connor reaches out his hand and he can feel his fingers brush against Sushi’s soft fur – he feels so warm. 

“Hey buddy,” he calls weakly, petting what he thinks is Sushi’s head, “I’m just… gonna sleep right here, okay?” 

His vision is swimming now, his consciousness comes and goes. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the pills. Who gives a shit. 

He closes his eyes, still holding Sushi against his chest. Sushi lets out a whine, and Connor absentmindedly gives him a little kiss.

The darkness is so cold yet comforting. 

Everything just falls away. This is… so much better than anything else. 

So much better than having Jeffrey tell him he’s off the case. 

So much better than seeing Hank fucking get shot in the head. 

So much better than coming home to find his mum dead in the living room.

Why does it matter anyway? The FBI are gonna solve the case, Hank can be replaced by CyberLife, and mum… 

Maybe he’ll see her again after all of this is over. It’s a nice thought.

It’s all so fucking tiring – why didn’t he think to do this earlier?

  
  
  
  


He hears the door click again. 

Who the fuck is it? It’s his last night being alive and he can’t even get a nice, peaceful sleep?

He opens his eyes slightly, and sees Hank’s face right above him – his LED shining bright red, tears welling up in his eyes. 

“Didn’t I tell you to go away?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

That’s not Hank.

 

Nothing makes any sense any more. 

Not since that day when he woke up in the hospital. 

“Don’t you remember? You tried to kill yourself,” Gavin told him, “You’d be dead if Hank didn’t find you in time.”

“Hank? What does he have to do with all this?”

“Well, he called 911 for you.”

 

That didn’t help at all. 

He can somewhat remember what happened that day – Jeffrey called him in, told him that the FBI is going to take over the case, and Hank is going to return to CyberLife. He left the office and went home, took a shower, thought about how absolutely useless he was – this was such an important case, people’s lives were hanging on the balance, and he absolutely blew it, even though he had Hank help him – 

He then tried to distract himself. Played with Sushi for a bit, but he just couldn’t stop thinking – 

What’s going to happen to Hank? Is CyberLife really going to kill him off just like that? What’s the FBI going to do with the deviant androids, kill them all? 

And when all this happens it’s going to be his fault. 

  
  


Suddenly he woke up and everything was over, just like that. 

He remembers the scene playing out on the TV in front of him. Pictures of what must have been hundreds of androids, all wearing their white CyberLife uniform, marching down the streets among the snow – Hank was walking in front of them, leading them. 

Connor would never have seen it coming.  

Especially not the part where Hank points the gun at his own chin and pulls the trigger.

 

“Detective Anderson?”

The same face, the same voice, greeting him in the office just two days later. 

“Congratulations on your recovery.”

He smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

That’s not Hank.

 

The video was taken from far away. 

Hank, standing in the middle of the stage, looking at the sea of androids in front of him. It’s too far away to see his face, to see what expression he’s making in this situation. 

His hand, pressing the barrel of the gun against his chin, the unmistakable bang of the gunshot, the blue blood splattering out from his head. 

He first falls to his knees before his body drops to the ground. 

  
  


It’s not like this is the first time this happened. 

He remembers Hank at the Stratford Tower, how Connor found him dying in the kitchen as he crawled towards the regulator. By the time Connor put it back inside of him there was no response, Hank’s eyes tightly shut, body stiff, blue blood dripping from his body onto Connor’s hands onto the floor.

When Connor pulled up outside Elijah Kamski’s house the next day, Hank was standing in the snow, waiting for him. 

  
  


_ “CyberLife has confirmed that the leader of the android revolution, known as Hank or HK800, has self-destructed.” _

 

That’s not Hank.

HK900, it says on the right side of his jacket. 

Connor notes that he’s wearing a white jacket with black accents with a black turtleneck, unlike Hank’s grey jacket and white shirt. 

Hank’s hair is always pulled back into a ponytail, but his grey hair is much shorter. The little blue circle shines bright on his temple.

“You’re new here?”

“Yes. I started two days ago.”

Connor sits down on his desk and takes a sip of his coffee. 

“I have downloaded all the memory from the old HK800 prototype,” he explains, “I know everything about the deviant cases you were working on, so we can resume our work without missing a beat.”

That’s still not Hank.

“I also know everything about you, to the extent that the prototype does.” His lips form a smile, “In other words, we are the same exact copy, except I’m an improved model – stronger, faster, more resilient...

“You can even call me Hank, if you’d like.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, this one's Short, i was just overwhelmed with HK900 feels one day ok,

**Author's Note:**

> i know i left like a Hook at the end bc i can kinda see where this can go so u kno, tell me if u wanna see more of this  
> find me on twatter for more sads, [@1isblue](https://twitter.com/1isblue) thank you lads


End file.
